Halloween
by Two Guns and a Knife
Summary: It was the night before Halloween. The people in Trenton lived their lives as they always did and then dreamed their dreams...
1. Halloween

**Halloween**

He was hairy. So hairy. Every year 11,000 Americans injure themselves when trying out bizarre sexual positions.

She twisted and turned in the bed. She felt the thirst deep down within.

Joe. Joe. Joseph Morelli. Super cop. Italian stallion.

She twisted and turned in the bed. His name almost escaped her lips.

She was destined to be his Cupcake. They were meant to be. A couple. An item. A match made in Heaven. The way he smiled. The way he looked at her. The gleam in his dark liquid chocolate eyes. The shadow of his white even teeth.

She twisted and turned in the bed. She wanted him to bite her. Hard. On her lips. On her neck. On her thighs . On her breasts. When they made love. She wanted him to look her in the eyes when he came. She wanted him to shout. She wanted him to moan. She wanted him to laugh. She wanted him to yell. She wanted to taste his sweat. She wanted to feel his power. Over and over. Thrust after thrust. She wanted him to praise the blueness of her greedy, lustful eyes...

She twisted and turned in the bed. 'Twas the night before Halloween. All her secret nightmares. All her beautiful dreams. She was a married woman now. The man beside her let out an extra loud snore. Suddenly she became wild awake.

Frank.

Frank Plum.

Her husband of 39 years.

She blinked, blushed, and felt horrified.

And in her dream, she'd smiled at Joe's naked, young, and muscular body. And he was hairy.

So hairy.


	2. Pumpkin King

**Pumpkin King**

He was hairy. So hairy. Every year 11,000 Americans injure themselves when trying out bizarre sexual positions.

But tonight, He was all alone. In his forsaken home.

All alone. And naked.

He walked around. The wooden floor cracked under his bare, unwashed feet. Home. Sweet home. He felt the coldness. He wanted to make love to somebody. Somebody. Anybody. His throbbing manhood laughed at him.

He ran a hand through his dense chest hair. It was cold but he could smell his sweat. He was an outstanding police detective but he couldn't stand the loneliness. And he was hungry. And he was horny. And he wanted to thrust deep inside somebody.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to shout. He wanted to moan. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to bite her. Hard. On her swollen lips. On her small full breasts. On her pale lean thighs. He wanted to taste her.

Over and over.

Thrust after thrust.

To suck and lick.

He wanted to bite her on her neck. Like a vampire. Like a beast. Like an actor in adult films.

He wanted to try out all the bizarre sexual positions. He wanted to make her scream. Sex. Warmth. Pumpkin pie and gravy. A full plate of macaroni and cheese.

He never asked for much. He just wanted to make her scream.

"Cupcake." He said. His voice echoed through the cold emptiness.

"Cupcake." He sounded lonely and cheap.

He ran a hand through his dense chest hair. He looked down at his bare unwashed feet. What was he doing here? He had better things to do. Other women to fuck. Other dreams to fill. Other jokes to tell. He needed to get dressed. But he couldn't find his clothes. He couldn't find his shoes. He was standing in front of an invisible crowd. And they were all laughing at him. Laughing at him. Laughing at him. He wanted to cover himself. He was completely naked. And his throbbing manhood laughed at him. He was hairy. So hairy. He couldn't find his clothes. And they were all laughing at him...

The naked woman beside her let out an extra loud snore. Suddenly he became wild awake. And the memories rushed back to him.

He stared at her warm naked body and blinked and blinked and blinked. He paled and felt horrified. He could smell the vodka in his own breath.

Lula.

Lula.

Lula.

The ex-whore who was allergic to cops. The ex-whore who didn't even have a last name to go by.

He stared at her warm naked body and, somehow, all of a sudden, his throbbing manhood grew hard. So hard that it hurt. And he vaguely remembered all the things they'd done together. All the bizarre new positions. All the toys. All the tricks.

And he grew harder.

And harder.

And harder.

HARDER.

'Twas the night before Halloween. All his secret nightmares. All his dirty little dreams.

And the dozens of used condoms on the carpet laughed at him.


	3. Trick or Treat

**Trick or Treat**

It was hard not to like Tank's new fiancée.

Lula opened her eyes and found the bed next to her cold and empty. The air in the room smelled of sex, cheap Vodka, garlic, and human fluids. She frowned at the tons of used condoms on the floor and all of a sudden felt like crying. Yeah, she'd just fucked Joe Morelli. Super Cop. Officer Hottie. Italian Stallion. And oh God, Stephanie was right, he was hairy. So hairy. And he sure knew a lot of dirty little fascinating tricks. Her lust had now been quenched but her heart was still broken. She just wanted to be at the very top of someone's priority list. And she and Tank were just not meant to be.

Cats. She'd never liked cats. Sneaky, creepy, demanding little beasts. And now that tall black crazy cat man was going to marry that pale thin crazy cat lady. Lula got out of the messy bed and wiped away a tear. What was she going to tell Stephanie? Or maybe she should hold her silence. Who would give a damn? Who was foolish enough to believe in marriage and long term relationship? She was street smart and barely educated. She'd sold her body for a living. She'd learned to shrug off the shame and ignore the pain. She was black and overweight. She wasn't exactly pretty. She'd thought of Tank. She'd closed her eyes. Joe Morelli had just penetrated her. Sex. Lust. Pleasure. The very best way to lose herself._ Why not? _She'd asked herself. _Why not? _She'd let out a moan. _Let Joe Morelli's penis do the thinking. _She'd let out a scream. Sex. Lust. Pleasure. The very best way to forget everything. She was but a whore. She wasn't well educated. She was overweight. She wasn't pretty.

And it was hard, so hard, not to like Tank's new fiancée.

Lula turned on the shower. Lula let the water wash away her tears. She would clean up the room later. She would always be Lula. She would never be at the very top of someone's priority list. And Tank was going to marry the pale, thin, kind, pretty crazy cat lady. They were going to save a lot of cats and kittens. They were going to have a lot beautiful kids. And she would always be Lula. Ex-whore. Barely educated. And she'd just fucked Joe Morelli. And yeah, he was hairy, so hairy, Crazy Hairy Rob Lowe* kind of hairy. And she would have to be honest with Stephanie. All the bizarre new positions. All the toys. All the tricks. All the colorful flavored condoms. Grapefruit. Pumpkin. Macaroni, gravy, and cheese.

Lula started laughing.

'Twas the night before Halloween.

*Great many thanks, dear sweetdreams-sunnymornings.


	4. All Hallows' Eve

**All Hallows' Eve**

Oh, how they stared at her.

The men who had died inside or outside her apartment building. The men she'd shot. The men her mother had run over. The men who had died trying to kill her.

Now their ghosts were here.

'Twas the night before Halloween. Halloween. A day for all the ghosts and saints. A day for tricks and treats. A day for candy. A day for pumpkins. Every year 11,000 Americans injure themselves when trying out bizarre sexual positions. She wasn't that into bizarre sexual positions. Some days she woke up wanting to have children and get married. Some days she woke up not knowing what the Hell she really wanted. Some days she woke up, stared at the ceiling, and then rolled back to sleep. She loved the smell and taste of autumn. She loved Halloween. But now the ghosts of the dead men filled her heart with fear. Yes, she hated guns. And yes, she had killed.

No. It hadn't been her fault. But it didn't matter to the ghosts. C'est la mort. C'est la vie. Life's a bitch. Life's a feast. And she could no longer stand the way they stared at her. The cold dead eyes. The sad faint smiles. And the smell of blood of bullets. She jumped out of bed and grabbed Rex. She ran out of her apartment and all the way down the stairs. She started the black shining Porsche and floored the gas. She ran though a red light and thought of irrelevant things. She had a boyfriend named Joe Morelli and sometimes his feet smelled like cheese. Were they currently on? Or were they currently off? She wasn't sure and she didn't want to think about that right now. The ghosts from her past are still floating after her car. Well, it wasn't exactly her car. It was a borrowed. It didn't belong to her. When the time came she would have to put a smile on her face and wave bye-bye. Everything has to end. Nothing ever lasts. Love. Friendship. Or something deeper or shallower than that.

She parked the car at the usual spot.

A shiver ran over her as she opened the door to the 7th-floor apartment.

She kicked off her slippers and almost moaned as her feet stepped on the clean, soft, carpeted floor. She placed Rex on the kitchen counter. As usual, the state-of-the-art refrigerator didn't make a sound. The place was empty. She looked around. She felt awkward. She felt at home. She went to the vast bathroom and took a hot shower. She went in the walk-in closet and put on a large black t-shirt. She got into the king size bed, let out a sigh and closed her eyes. She was so tired, so, so tired. Life. Work. Family. Sex. And love. Slowly she fell asleep. In her dream roses of all colors climbed all over the building, blocking out the coldness, the sadness, the fear, and the despair. In her dream she couldn't hear the ghosts howling.

She was sound asleep when the tall dark man leaned against the door looking at her.

She was sound asleep when the tall dark man turned on the water to wash off his weariness.

She was sound asleep when the tall dark man got in the bed beside her.

She was sound asleep when he, too, fell asleep. And in her dream, she smiled as she melted into his darkness.


	5. Friday, October 31

**Friday, October 31**

He woke up with a jerk. The house was very quiet. His wife of 39 years was sound asleep. All of a sudden, he felt hungry.

He got dressed and went downstairs. He thought of his younger years.

He unlocked the front door and went outside. The street, too, was very quiet.

The sky was cloudy. He got into his car and started the engine. Yes, he had a destination in mind.

It was still early; the traffic was light. He'd always been a good driver. He knew this city like the back of his hand.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe he shouldn't have returned.

Maybe he should have gone to California.

San Francisco.

With a flower in his hair.

He was so young and so unafraid. And now he was but an old man. A father. A grandfather. A husband. A cab driver. Where had all the monsters gone? He stopped the car. Right in front of the bakery. The smell of butter and sugar swallowed him. Doughnuts. He needed doughnuts. He inhaled the sweet air and tried to smile. He was caged. He was confined. Out of his own will. It was his own fault. He still loved the sunny West Coast. He paid for the doughnuts. He turned to leave. His eyes fell on Mrs. Morelli. Joe's mother. The woman with a permanent frown. He nodded politely. He didn't stop for a conversation. One day. One day. One day Stephanie would end up like her. Another Mrs. Morelli. But it was her choice. He, too, had made his choice. Val, too, had made her choice. Choices. Mistakes. Heartbreaking facts.

Always the wrong person.

Always the wrong reason.

Always the wrong decision.

He sat down on the bench inside the park. He took out a doughnut. He took a bite. A dust of powdered sugar fell like snow.

Once upon a time. He took out another doughnut. He took another bite.

_Too late_. A bird in a nearby tree sang to him as he started eating his third doughnut. _Too too late_.

A dust of powdered sugar fell like tears.

**~THE END~**


End file.
